The One Who Lies Close to Me
by ick.toriavay
Summary: Hermione loves Draco. She watches him sleep. OoC, Dramione, AU. Oneshot.


**The One Who Lies Close to Me, a Harry Potter fanfic.**

_I'm practicing writing in second person,and this idea came to me, so, please enjoy. EXTREMELY OoC, and AU. Just to clear that up, before you read._

You smirk at him when he smirks at you. A little secret; only you know about it. It really confuses him. You wink, much to his displeasure. He doesn't know it yet, but he loves you. As you get older, the love grows more and more. Isn't that worth fighting for? He's in the room next to yours. You secretly sneek into his room and watch him sleep at night. If he knew, oh, boy. If he knew, he'd probably kill you. Or, just hex you into obliviation. Whichever he prefers. You'd give him anything, anything he wants. You just want to see him smile. You just want to break the stone over his face, and see a little crinkle next to his eyes, where he's smiling at you. He doesn't notice your obvious infatuation. If it even is just an infatuation. You know what it is. The familiar swirling in the pit of your stomache when his eyes meet yours, the rapidly increasing of your heartbeat when he "accidentally" touches you. You want, no, you need him. You ache for him. You cry yourself to sleep. You don't tell anyone. You're tied together with a smile, but you're coming undone. You're about to crack. Maybe, just maybe, you're drowning. You're drowning in his eyes, that are closed in thought. He doesn't see you. He doesn't see your shadow in the dark corridors. You're hiding from you. Why? Did you ever tell him your feelings? Did he just put them in the pocket of his jeans?

You're standing over his bead, a book in your hand, a little video camera in the book. You're recording his sleeping. You giggle as he snores a little. You snap your mouth shut. You hide behind his bed as he stirrs. He awakes, and you hold your breath. To your surprise, and pleasure, he sleeps nude. You jot it in your little notebook. You didn't know this before.

"Granger?" You hear him groggily mutter. You glance up, shocked. He discovered you. You look at him, sheepish grin in place.

"Yes?" You whisper. You're afraid to talk. You might cry.

"What are you doing?" He stares at you, eyes buldging.

"Uhh- I'm... uh... You see... I needed... Sleep walking." You lie. You lie badly. He's so angry. He looks ready to murder. He's outraged.

"Obviously you're not." He puts a hand on his hip. You whish he would put some clothes on. You're oddly aroused. You moan in need. He crouches down until he's eye level to you.

"I love you." You blirt. You're suffocating in his eyes. They're scolding hot.

He doesn't respond. He kisses you. You could scream with glee. You wrap your arms around his neck, you tangle your hands in his hair. You feel something hard against you. You blush, and smirk against his lips. He pulls you up, and tells you to crawl into his bed. He doesn't touch you, and he drifts into sleep. Was he sleep walking? If so, she was in big trouble. You lie in his bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest, grinning to yourself. You reach out, and touch his soft, but hard, chest. You giggle, and kiss his chest. Little feathers, dropping on his abdomen.

He peeks at you. He smiles as he sees you inching further and further down with your trail of kisses.

--

You awake to a giggle. You hear a little thump, and you're alone. You get up, wanting to know what it was. Whatever it was, it had better be ready to be hurt. He was having the best dream. It wasn't a regular nightmare about Voldemort or the Death Eaters. It was amazing, arousing. Plain lovely. You were dreaming about her. Her eyes, her hair, and her touch. Her taste. Her everything. You smile in your sleepy-daze as you think about her.

You glance over your bed, and she's there, holding her breath. You smile.

"Granger?" You groggily mutter. You're tired. It could all be a dream. It feels so good.

"Yes?" She whispers. You can tell she's humilated, on the verge of tears. You can't let her cry. You hate seeing her sad.

"What are you doing here?" You ask. That's right, keep up the mean façade.

"Uhh- I'm... uh... You see... I needed... Sleep walking." She stammers, and trips over her words. You scowl.

"Obviously you're not." She looks down, you see her eyes flicker towards your ... ahem ... package.

"I love you." It wasn't meant to come out. She didn't mean it. You can tell that. What the hell? You ask yourself. Give her the benefit of the doubt. You kiss her. You kiss her passionatly. Hotly. You blame the sexy moan that made you kiss her. You blame her. You wouldn't dare blame hormones, or lust, or anything else remotely close to yourself. Selfish bastard.

You order her to get into your bed. You don't know why. You wanted to feel like you had power. Authority. Naughty, naughty. You pretend to sleep. You feel a feather-light hand on your chest. You grin. You feel little kisses. You peek at her. You need to stop her. But, you can't. You like it too much. You grab her hand. She glances up at you. Again, she's sheepish. You slowly, ever so carefully, take off her shirt. She smiles shyly at you. You need her.

You stare at her. Her fully devoloped body, there, naked, in front of you.

"Damn." You mutter. She giggles, and straddles you. You can't wait. You don't want to be gentle. You grab her.

--

He enters you with force. You scream with the pleasure. You love him. You love this man. He loves you. Isn't that all you need?

--

She is it. She is all you need.


End file.
